The Unclaimed Baby by Melanie Milburne Read Free Book Online

Hollywood starlet like his equally single younger brother Nicoló, what had he been doing?
    â€˜Did you drive here or catch a cab?’ Luca asked.
    â€˜I caught a cab,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to have to worry about parking.’
    He reached for a set of car keys on a nearby sideboard. ‘I’ll drive you home.’
    Bronte felt a frisson of fear run through her like a trickle of ice-cold water. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said quickly. ‘I mean…it’s no trouble getting a cab. I would prefer it, actually…’
    His eyes narrowed just a fraction. ‘What is the problem, Bronte? You surely trust me to get you home safely? I do know which side of the road to drive on here.’
    â€˜It’s not that,’ she said. ‘I would prefer to make my own arrangements.’
    â€˜Is there someone waiting for you at home?’ he asked.
    â€˜My private life has nothing to do with you, Luca,’ she said. ‘Not any more.’
    He continued to watch her, his eyes dark and inscrutable. He didn’t speak, which made the silence open up like a chasm between them.
    â€˜Look,’ Bronte finally said, moving from foot to foot with impatience, ‘I have to work tomorrow. And I don’t want my mother to worry.’
    â€˜Your mother?’ A deep frown appeared between his brows. ‘You live with your mother?’
    She straightened her spine. ‘What’s wrong withthat?’ she asked. ‘Property is horrendously expensive in Melbourne. I can’t afford the studio rent and a mortgage. I’m just starting out.’
    â€˜How long have you been teaching at the studio?’ he asked, still frowning.
    â€˜About a year,’ Bronte said. ‘Rachel and I trained at the same academy together. She broke her ankle in a car accident a couple of years ago and had to give up dancing. We decided to set up our own ballet school.’
    Another silence passed but to Bronte it felt like hours. Each second seemed weighted; even the air seemed heavy and too thick for her to breathe.
    â€˜The audition you said you missed,’ he said, watching her steadily. ‘Did that by any chance have anything to do with me?’
    Bronte felt her heart trip and carefully avoided his gaze. ‘W…why do you ask that?’
    â€˜We broke up, what, about four weeks before you were due to audition, right?’
    She gave a could-mean-anything shrug and fiddled with the catch on her clutch purse. ‘I didn’t see the point in trying for the company when my heart wasn’t in staying in London,’ she said. She brought her gaze back up to his. ‘It was time for me to go home, Luca. There was nothing in London for me. The competition was tough, in any case. I didn’t have a hope of making the shortlist. The audition would have been yet another rejection I just wasn’t up to facing.’
    â€˜So you preferred to not show up at all rather than to fail.’ It was not a question but a rather good summation of what she had been feeling at the time.
    Bronte hadn’t realised he had known her quite so well. She hadn’t spoken to him of her doubts aboutmaking the grade. Their relationship hadn’t been the sort for heart-to-heart confessions. She had always felt as if he was holding himself at a distance, not just physically but emotionally, so she had done the same. ‘Yes,’ she said, deliberately holding his gaze. ‘I did, however, speak to the head of auditions in person and explain I was withdrawing my application. I had at least the common decency to do that.’
    There was another long drawn-out silence.
    â€˜I know you took it hard, Bronte,’ he said in a husky tone. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you but I am afraid it was unavoidable. I had to end it. I had no other choice.’
    Bronte blinked back the smarting of tears. She was not going to cry in front of him. She had